


The Storm Is Over Now

by Buchstabensuppe



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Bedlam flashback, F/M, Fighting, Hurt, I'll tagg along as I go, M/M, Madi needs to let off some steam, Reconciliation, Season 4 Spoilers, enraged sex, finally the rating makes sense ;), hint on gay Oglethorpe in chapter 2, hugs!!Dammit!, maroon queen is more observant than she gets credit for, mopy Silver, surprise hints on Silver's heritage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buchstabensuppe/pseuds/Buchstabensuppe
Summary: „Well, then do it!“ Flint’s voice is even sharper than his eyes, which now contain an anguish that wrenches Silver’s heart out. Cuts his skin, cuts the fortress he built around his inner secrets.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Title from R. Kelly because I coincidentally heard it on the radio after the finale and started to cry my eyes out. It took two days and one package of tissues to finish the first chapter :D

„I will stand here with you for an hour, a day, a year, while you find a way to accept this outcome so that we might leave here together. For if not then I must end this another way.“ 

Flint stares at him, not deigning one look at the gun pointed at his chest. Silver's hand is shaking, his finger on the trigger slowly sliding down. Green glass is slitting through his retinas and he can’t help but jerk when Flint suddenly takes a step forward. The finger is back on the trigger in an instant. 

„Well, then do it!“ Flint’s voice is even sharper than his eyes, which now contain an anguish that wrenches Silver’s heart out. Cuts his skin, cuts the fortress he built around his inner secrets. He’s bleeding, he can feel his soul seeping out on the ground with every minute that passes without any trust between them, building a glistening pool around his feet. 

„If you are so determined to take this war from me, from Madi. From all the people we have lost?“ Flint growls as he takes another step in his direction. He’s so close now, the barrel of the gun is pressing into his chest. „Then you should better kill me right here and now, for I refuse to live one day in a world where _they_ defeated us! Where _you_ -“ Suddenly his voice is breaking, all the rage gone and replaced by something far worse. Silver has to shut his eyes to keep them from flooding. He is overwhelmed by Flint’s scent and by his grief, his betrayed trust. He has to do it. Has to do it now, or he’ll never be able to. 

He almost fires out of accident, when Flint lays his hand on the weapon between them; but instead of pulling it out of Silver’s hand, he closes his fingers around his arm and raises it to his temple, gun an all.

„Please do it, John.“ His voice has lost all its vigour, any resistance is gone from his features, and – when just moments before a god of war was standing in front of him – all Silver can see now is an old man, tired of his life, of his fight. Of himself maybe. 

And isn’t that all he wanted? To make Flint accept the fate he, Silver, has designed for him? Silver grips the gun harder, marvelling at the harsh contrast between the cool metal and Flint‘s sweaty freckled skin. Would he be able to do it, he wonders. Would he be able to undo his Captain? The trigger feels almost like a living thing now, like the demon of his own selfishness, urging him on. It would be so much easier that way, wouldn’t it? A mercy maybe. If not for Flint, then at least for his own jealous mind. 

Silver closes his eyes again and comes to a final decision. He isn’t sure if he should be upset or relieved that it proves to be the easiest decision he ever made. Flint frowns in confusion when he feels the barrel lifted from his head, but he makes no move; just stands there, staring into Silvers eyes like they were the gates to salvation closing right in front of him.

Silver can’t stand it any longer. He takes a deep breath and braces himself to let go. „It was no random curiosity when I asked you about Thomas. In fact I had a very good reason for it.“ 

Flint’s face shows a wary expression now, as if he’s not sure, if Silver is mocking him on top of everything else. Silver knows he brought this on himself, he knows he earns that, but it still hurts when the shards of their broken trust embed themselves in his heart. 

„James“, he says, not ready to keep this knowledge from him any longer. „Thomas is alive.“ 

The following silence stretches on and on. An hour. A day. A year. Silver doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care, because every minute Flint is silent, is another minute his friend – his partner – is still here with him; another minute he is not replaced by this stranger Silver worked so hard to summon. 

„That’s not possible,“ Flint breathes, still clutching to Silver’s arm so firmly he starts to feel pins and needles in his fingertips. „That’s just another one of your lies, isn’t it? It has to be. Thomas died in Bedlam!“ 

„It’s the truth“, Silver insists. „I would never lie to you about that. Never about that!“ 

„Not about that, he says“, Flint sneers and shoves him back. Silver stumbles; almost falls when the crutch slips on the muddy ground, but he catches himself in the last moment. Flint watches him with a strange look; caught somewhere between concern and disappointment. „Not about that, but everything else? How long have you been planning this little scheme of yours? Was the war ever a priority to you?“ 

Silver closes his eyes, considering his next words very carefully. When he reopens them, Flint is again seated on that boulder. Silver crosses the patch of dark soil between them and ungracefully plunks himself down in front of him. Flint’s eyes follow his every step. When Silver reaches out to touch his knee, he flinches slightly, so slightly that nobody else would have noticed, but he also makes no move to stop him. 

„I know, after everything that happened, I have no right to demand your trust anymore“, Silver admits haltingly. „But I swear to you, that from this moment on, nothing but honesty will cross my lips in front of those I love.“ He endures the disbelief in Flint‘s face only because he’s so busy committing the feeling of strong muscle and tender bone under his palm to memory. A self inflicted wound to be poked at a later date. 

„Max was the one telling me about this place where wealthy families put their troublesome kin to get rid of them in a more humanly way.“ For the first time Silver sees sincere interest sparking in Flint’s eyes, accompanied by something achingly similar to hope. „I sent Morgan to investigate the matter while you were occupied with Eleanor in the fort. He came back with news that one special prisoner was indeed kept there.“ 

„Thomas“, Flint whispers. 

„Thomas.“ 

„And when Madi got captured…“, Flint pursues the thought. 

„When we learned about her whereabouts and you refused to put her life before your war“, Silver continues grimly. The memory of this conversation has not lost its bitterness yet. „Back then I saw the cache as my only way to get her back safely. It was a grave mistake to underestimate Rogers … Billy. Considering -“ New tears come to his eyes, when he thinks of all the men they have lost; of the Walrus, their loyal lady; how her sturdy body got engulfed by flames. „Considering what happened … It was my fault. I will always bear this guilt with me till the day I die.“ 

The unexpected weight of Flint’s warm palm on the back of his hand feels like a comforting blanket. It makes getting back to the business at hand even harder. 

„This said“, Silver presses on, brusquely wiping off the tears, „I refuse to let this war take another friend from me. Not when I have at my command the means to bring it all to an end. To bring Flint to an end, so James McGraw can finally come back to life.“ 

„So, what you’re implying is …“

Silver pushes himself of the ground, the gun still forgotten in his hand. „With your consent I will help you to find Thomas on that plantation. I will give you the money to make sure you two will be treated well until -“

Flint raises an eyebrow sardonically. „So, you ship me off into slavery. Is that what you’re saying?“ 

Silver ignores his dissent. Of course, it must sound like that to him. „Until I find a way to break you out of there, I was going to say“, he concludes. „I live on an island full of former slaves and intend to spend the rest of my life with their future queen. Do you really think I could abandon anybody to such a fate?“ 

He’s relieved to hear Flint chuckle; even if it sounds more tired than amused. „I’m not exactly sure what to think at the moment.“ 

Silver has the sudden urge to touch him again, so he throws away the gun in his right hand with a slight whiff of disgust. They both start when a shot rings out, followed by the excited screeching of birds. 

Flint’s laughter breaks the following awkward silence. „You little shit! You could’ve killed us both!“ 

He stands and pulls Silver into a fierce embrace. It is so utterly unanticipated that Silver let’s go of his crutch and has to clutch Flint’s neck with his arms to keep his balance.

„Everything alright down there?“, Silver hears Israel`s voice from up the hill.

„We have to get back“, he murmurs into Flints ear. „Please, I need your agreement on this. Please, let me do this for you - for us!“ 

Flint’s hands on his back are shaking. „I can’t say I’m happy about any of that, but ... if you're speaking the truth - if there’s just a glimmer of hope that Thomas is truly alive somewhere, I … Damn it! I will do as you say.“ 

Silver’s not sure how to feel about the change he witnesses in his friend’s eyes in this moment. It’s a change he was adamant to bring forth in an effort to prevent further loss, but loss is exactly what he’s experiencing right now. Here he stands, watching a part of Captain Flint die while a part of the stranger stirs in his sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is. My personal coping with the finale. A cheer for therapeutical writing! I'm not sure what to do with my life now without Black Sails :D Comments would fill the emptiness engulfing my heart right now! <3


	2. Leavetaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance if I messed up any historical facts about Oglethorpe or Georgia. I just know what Wikipedia tells me ^^

The passage to Savannah is an exhausting endeavour, for Captain Flint has not completely died on the island. The doubts about Silver’s tale come and go during the journey, much like the waves underneath their feet. On bad days, when they engulf his whole being, James convinces himself that everything is just an elaborate lie to knock the fight out of him. He rages and argues with Silver, until the younger man quits the effort to persuade him and just sits in front of the cabin door, watching him with red rimmed eyes.

Yes, it is an exhausting journey, both for the body and the mind, but in the end it is all worth it. In the end, when all the bitterness and anger give way, seeping into the furrowed soil, he closes his eyes and inwardly apologizes to Silver for all the things he has thrown at him in his doubt and fear.

Captain Flint is still not dead. Sometimes James feels him deep inside his chest. Whenever one of the gaffers makes use of his authority to get the men back in line, he has to fight down the urge to step up and rally his fellow prisoners to rebellion.

However, it’s not a bad place, this plantation. There are no whips, no beatings – not even verbal vilifications. Instead the interaction between the prisoners and their guards is kept on a more benevolent level. A few harsh words here and there, and sometimes an afternoon spent with work that no one else wants to do, is all the punishment these people need to stay obedient. They are sheep in his eyes; a far cry from the hardened men he used to count himself to, and sometimes he starts missing even the most notorious trouble makers on his crew. Here inside those walls, amidst feckless third and fourth sons of Lords who got themselves disgraced with debauchery, horrendous betting depts or indecent liaisons, he feels very much out of place. If not for Thomas, he wouldn’t have waited for Silver to get him out of this place, but as it is, he has no choice but to bide his time.

***

_„It’ll take us a few days to get all the stuff we need“, Silver says. „Maybe a week or two. You know what to do when we set the signal?“_

_„Yes, of course“, James grunts, flexing his wrists inside the metal cuffs. „You told me over and over again.“_

_Silver flashes him a grin und takes both his hands in his, checking for the fourth time if the cuffs are too tight. „Go get your man.“_

***

It’s not even that hard to be patient anymore; not with Thomas, alive and healthy by his side. Every morning, before opening his eyes, James is convinced that it’s all just a dream, but then Thomas‘ arm is moving on his chest, Thomas‘ breath stroking his cheek, and he wakes to the incredible realization that all of this is really happening. 

The mere fact that they’re able to sleep in the same bed together - in the same room even - and without the fear of consequences, is still unreal to him. Their lodging is a sparely furnished cell with a little barred window overlooking the sugarcane fields outside. A few books and a rickety old chair is all the luxury they are granted. It’s nothing compared to his cabin on the Walrus, but also not the worst accommodation he ever had. The biggest surprise is that the door is never locked. All in all, it feels more like a monastery than a prison to him.

Sometimes, when the day‘s work is done, Thomas gets summoned to Oglethorpe’s office. He always comes back from these gatherings smelling of tobacco and expensive whisky. James is never part of this. When he asks Thomas about it, he just laughs and tells him a story about Bedlam.

***

_In his futile search for a more comfortable position, Thomas tosses and turns on the dingy mattress. He can feel the dampness of the freezing stone tiles seeping through the thin material right into his bones, and the constant dripping from the leaky ceiling is slowly driving him mad, not to mention the muffles cries and moans coming from the adjoining cells._

_He utters a humourless snort, which immediately gets snatched from his lips by the impenetrable darkness all around him. Well, what better place to lose one’s mind than a nut house?_

_His thoughts get interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps and voices on the hall outside his door, promptly followed by inhuman screams and screeching from the throats of real lunatics and those Bedlam made into such. In times like these, it’s easy to imagine that he was accidentally banged up in a menagerie instead of a hospital._

_Thomas abruptly sits up, when the steps come to a halt right in front of his cell and a key is turned in the lock. It’s still too early for breakfast, so who can that be and what do they want with him?_

_He blinks against the sudden brightness of a lantern, but once his eyes have adjusted to the light, he makes out the frames of two men. One of them is the guard; the other though is a stranger. He‘s wearing a wig and fine elegant clothing._

_„That’s him“, says the guard, indicating Thomas._

_„Thank you very much for your service“, the stranger answers with a nod. „Now, I want to exchange a few words with Lord Hamilton. Would you kindly wait outside? I will ask for your help when it’s required.“_

_The guard leaves them with a sloppy bow and closes the door behind him._

_It feels a little awkward to sit on the floor while his visitor is standing there, so Thomas gets to his feet, fighting back the dizziness brought about by hunger and insomnia, and offers the man a grimy hand. The stranger gives him a broad smile and shakes it without paying any regard to the dirt._

_„I am delighted to finally meet you, Mylord“, he says. Thomas is too distracted by the warm touch covering his freezing fingers to remember the proper answer to such a courteous greeting, so he just nods._

_The man takes in his gaunt face and dank hair with sympathetic eyes; at least Thomas thinks that’s what it is. He hasn’t received anything resembling sympathy for far too long now._

_„Forgive me, Lord Hamilton“, the stranger continues and lets go of his hand. Thomas fights the urge to object, desperate to keep hold of the only available source for warmth. „My name is James Edward Oglethorpe. I am sure you’re wondering what brings me here this early in the morning.“_

_James. The name causes an avalanche of suppressed memories, but it also rouses some part of his mind which has been asleep until now. Finally trying to find his voice again, Thomas clears his throat and croaks: „I do indeed, Sir.“_

_„Well“, Mr. Oglethorpe says, still smiling. „Not long ago I was invited to a reception at your father’s salon and had a lengthy conversation with him.“_

_„You have my sincerest condolences, Sir“, Thomas answers wryly, not really expecting a response to such a blunt remark, so the honest smirk on Oglethorpe’s face comes as a surprise._

_„I must say, he is a very …“, Oglethorpe pauses in search for the right word, “austere fellow, your father. Not the most pleasant evening I ever had, but fruitful nonetheless.“_

_Thomas frowns, not sure what the man’s trying to say._

_„I told him about my intention to form a new settlement in the New World with the help of men who have nothing to lose back home. Prisoners mostly, many of them unjustly condemned.“_

_Thomas looks up sharply. „Am I hearing correctly? Do you want to…“_

_„I asked your father if he could imagine to entrust me with your further care. He agreed on the sole condition that you should never set foot on English soil ever again.“_

_Thomas doesn’t even notice the compassionate tone of this words. He is overwhelmed by the unexpected prospect of leaving Bedlam’s dreary walls behind; leaving the stench and desolation of the place to see the sky again, green grass, the sea …sea green eyes… This thought evokes sudden pain, for he is remembered of James and Miranda, who are hopefully still alive somewhere. Would he be able to break free one day, search for them? Maybe they were already waiting for him in the New World. Suddenly he can’t stifle the unreasonable hope that is taking root deep inside him; it forces the corners of his mouth into his first smile since Bedlam’s gates closed behind him._

_„What are we waiting for?“_

***

„I don’t know what exactly he saw in me“, Thomas tells him, faintly smiling to himself. „But he befriended me; made me privy to more and more of his private life. He likes the Odyssey, that one.“ James laughs because Thomas laughs, he just can’t help it. „I guess, he enjoyed talking to me, about his reading, about his ideas and visions, and somewhere along the line, we became more than dependent and benefactor. Even a little bit more than friends maybe.“

James raises a questioning eyebrow. „Does he …?“

But Thomas just shrugs. „I’m not sure. If he does, I don’t think he’s fully aware of it.“

James raises the tankard to his lips and takes a sip of the beer they are sharing. „He sounds like a good man.“

Thomas nods. „He is.“

„Are you still confident about our plan? If you’d rather stay -“

„No“, Thomas interrupts gently. „I‘ve thought long and hard about it, and it’s time for me to move on. There’s still so much to discover for us, so much life to live.“ The excitement and wonder in his eyes is all the persuasion James needs. He leans in, ignoring the agonized creaking of their cot, and kisses him.

***

“Let’s get some water“, Thomas says, wiping his forehead with a dirty hand and leaving a dark streak of earth on the skin. James‘ fingers crave to wipe it away, but he still isn’t comfortable enough to show too much open affection here in front of all the other men.

They leave their spades and make their way across the field over to the guard on water duty, careful not to trample the newly laid out furrows. The hot Georgia sun burns even hotter on the dark soil of the sugarcane fields, and James is glad that the drink water barrel is overshadowed by the windowless wall of the barn.

„A little sip please, Morrison“, Thomas says to the man, and for a dizzying moment James is reminiscent of evenings spent with lively conversations over brandy and wine at the Hamilton household.

„Sure, Hamilton“, Morrison answers with a lazy smile and plunks his wooden ladle into the water barrel, effectively shattering the delicate mirage.

When Thomas is finished, James excepts the offered ladle to quench his thirst, but he hasn’t swallowed his first gulp, when a scream from the direction of the main building startles him into choking on the water inside his mouth.

„What the fuck’s going on over there?“, Morrison grunts and leaves them, making his way towards the other guards, who are wildly gesticulating to the west wing of the big house which seems to be ablaze.

„Jesus!“ Thomas slaps him on the back to still his coughing fit. „That’s it, isn’t it?“

„It is“, James rasps out when he finally catches his breath. „Let’s go. We don’t have much time.“

They make their way over to the stables. In the overall mayhem of prisoners and guards who are shouting orders, searching for buckets and running over to the building to help fighting the flames, no one takes any notice of them or the direction they’re taking.

When they planned their escape, they had to agree on a specific meeting place. The choice fell on a part of the surrounding wall that lay in a remote area of the compound, shielded from view by the stables and the trees of Oglethorpe’s little orchard. They have to cut across this little stretch of land to reach their destination, so James takes hold of Thomas‘ hand and pulls him with him into the shade of the apple trees.

They’ve almost reached the spot – in fact James can already make out Israel Hands‘ gnarly face on top of the compound wall – when a sharp voice stops them in their tracks.

„This was your doing!“

James utters a curse when he sees Oglethorpe’s white face behind them. He's alone, seemingly interrupted in his afternoon stroll over the grounds. He must have finished his business in Savannah earlier than anticipated.

The man’s gaze slips from Thomas to James and over to Israel who’s pointing a gun right at his face. „I should’ve known never to trust the word of a pirate.“

„Look, James-“ Thomas says, but Oglethorpe interrupts him.

„Don’t say a word, Thomas, I beg you. The fault’s not yours. I should’ve known my friendship couldn’t possibly outweigh your desire for freedom, or the bond you share with this man. I saw it in your face the moment you laid eyes on him.“ He closes his own eyes and covers them with a trembling hand for a long moment.

James‘s not quite sure what to do. He just hopes, Israel can hold his temper. The last thing he wants, is to let the situation escalate. His chest tightens nonetheless when he feels Thomas‘ hand slip from his grasp. Frowning, James watches his lover striding over to his friend and reaching for his shoulder.

„I’m sorry for the way we handled this“, Thomas says. „You deserve better, my friend, but our allies here saw no other way to solve this without spilling blood. James assured me that the fire would be kept small and confined to an unoccupied part of the building. No one was harmed.“

„That’s not true“, Oglethorpe answers with sudden steel in his voice. „The fire claimed two victims. The men were the first to arrive at the scene and immediately tried to smother the flames, but unfortunately they got trapped inside the building and burned to death. Their bodies were burned to ashes before the fire was under control.“

James sees how Thomas‘ initial dread slowly turns into confusion, and finally gives way to amazement and deep gratitude.

Oglethorpe sighs and concludes: „The two victims were one Thomas Hamilton and our newest arrival, the pirate James Flint.“

„Thank you, James“, Thomas says smiling. „I swear, you won’t regret it. We will take on new identities and just disappear. You won’t hear from any of us ever again.“

Oglethorpe’s answering smile is tinged with sadness when he takes Thomas‘ hand for a final shake. „That’s what I feared, my friend.“

***

After that, it is nothing to climb the wall with Israel’s help and get into the waiting carriage on the other side.

„Are you alright?“, James asks Thomas once they are safe inside, concerned about the other man’s silence.

Thomas answers with a gentle kiss. „Yes, I’m fine.“

It‘s a short trip to the small dilapidated cot Silver has chosen as a base for the whole rescue mission. The man himself is waiting for them in front of the entry, impatiently drumming his fingers on top of the crutch. As soon as he sees them coming, he places it under his armpit and hops over to them.

„Has everything gone according to plan?“, he anxiously asks Hands who has been driving the carriage.

„Apart from a short interlude with the owner…“, Hands answers.

„What?“, Silver asks sharply.

„It’s alright“, James assures him when he jumps from the vehicle. „He let us go.“

„He - What?“

„We have a history, he and I“, Thomas explains, following James to the ground. „He’ll tell everyone that we died in the fire.“

Silver doesn’t seem convinced. „Without your bodies nobody will believe him.“

„Well, I’m not intending to linger around any longer than necessary“, James grunts to forestall any further interjections. He regrets his words when he sees pain flare in Silver’s blue eyes, but the man gets a hold of himself almost instantly. 

„So, you are the famous Thomas Hamilton“, he says with a smile that may be a little bit too bright to be fully honest.

Thomas responds by pulling the surprised man into a cautious hug. „I am“, he says after he releases Silver from his arms. „And you must be the notorious John Silver. James told me so much about you.“

Silver shoots a glance at James, obviously gauging how much he’s actually told him. „Did he now?“

„I know, you’re the one accountable for bringing him back to me, which means I’m forever in your debt, Mr. Silver.“ Thomas looks over to James, before he continues. „I also know how much both of you are giving up today, so I will give you a moment.“

When Thomas has followed Israel and the other men into the cot, Silver’s shoulders visibly drop. Again James notices his obvious suffering, and every last bit of resentment he’s still been holding, ceases in that moment. He moves closer to him and takes the beloved face between his hands to wipe away all the creases of worry and heartache.

„Stop that now“, he whispers in his ear. „Stop beating yourself up over nothing, because you’re forgiven. I forgive you, John, and she will too.“

Silver leans himself against his body, and James can feel him tremble in his arms. Hot liquid trickles down his neck.

„I don’t want to let go of you“, Silver breathes against his skin. „I know I was the one orchestrating all of this, but now that the moment has come to finally say goodbye, I don’t think I’ve the strength to let you leave.“

James presses a desperate kiss on the crown of his head. „You have proven time and again that you possess the strength to do that and more. Don’t you dare doubt it, my love!“

Silver’s sob is muffled by the collar of James‘ shirt. A long time passes before any of them can summon the willpower to part from each other, but eventually Silver straightens himself on the crutch, discreetly wiping away the tears, and steps back.

The sadness hasn’t disappeared from his eyes, but it has lost its vehemence, given way to a deep melancholy, formed not by misery and bad choices but by love and fond memories.

„There are horses and provisions in the back“, Silver tells him. „It should be enough to sustain both of you until you find a place to stay. I wish you all the best, my friend.“

„Farewell, John“, James answers smiling. „Go get your woman.“

Silver gives him a short grin. „I will, and if it’s the last thing I do.“

He climbs the carriage, whistling for his men. Hands takes the reins and looks at Silver. „Ready?“

„Ready“, he answers, and Hands clicks his tongue to spur on the horses. Just before they reach the turn in the road, James sees Silver’s arm waving a final goodbye and he returns the gesture, ignoring the tears running down his own cheeks.

***

„Where shall we go now?“, James asks Thomas while they pack the horses.

Thomas grins. „Where do you want to go?“

James shrugs, fixing the saddle girth. „It’s a big country.“

„I’ve always wanted to see mountains“, Thomas muses. „I heard there are some up north.“

James fondly smirks. „Up north it is.“

„We still need new names. Have you thought about that?“

„I have“, James answers and turns to look at his lover. „It would make things easier if we pretended to be relatives. We could use the same name.“

Thomas nods. „I like that. And what name do you have in mind?“

„How about Barlow?“

The name forms dampness in Thomas eyes like dew and James feels at a loss. „I’m sorry. I thought it would be a way to take her with us wherever we go; to perpetuate her memory. If you don’t like it -“

„I like it“, Thomas assures him hoarsely. „Very much.“

With a relieved smile James mounts his horse and winks. „Well, then let’s go, Mr. Barlow, as long as we can still make out the road.“ He closes his eyes and takes a deep calm breath. „Life’s waiting.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still one to go! Flint's story is now finally told. Or is it? I'm always open for post-TI fix-its ;)  
> The next chapter will follow Silver's way back into Madi's heart. Due to university it could be a while before I post again, but stay tuned :)


	3. Atonement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! It’s done! I’m so so sorry for the wait, but diving back into this story was much harder than anticipated. When I started it right after the serie’s end, the emotions were raw and fresh. Now it felt more like a broken bone that has grown together crookedly and must be broken again before it can completely heal. Again I apologize in advance for any messed up history facts (or Mohawk names. Yes, that’s actually a thing here. Don’t ask me how it happened :D) And for the record: I do not fully agree with the queen’s argumentation or her view of human nature.

The chirrup of nightly insects in the nearby wood mingles pleasantly with the laughter of children, amusing themselves with a game of hide and seek in the dark while the grownups are engaging in boring conversations. The Maroon Queen closes her eyes for a moment and lets the homely noises wash over her. She still can’t believe how lightly their community got off the war 

Granted, not everybody is happy with the way their plans got twisted. The queen opens her eyes and glances across the table at her daughter, who is talking to some of her friends. Madi was furious when the compact with Nassau undid every last opportunity to gain freedom through war. Eventually her rage boiled down somewhat, but her mother can still feel it bubbling right under a thin layer of calmness.

Right now Madi’s face betrays nothing but joy when she accepts a refill and raises her cup to a toast. The group of people around her does the same, and the queen happily watches them clink glasses. Even John Silver joins in, maybe hoping to find her in a forgiving mood, but when their glasses touch, Madi’s face falls and the whole table descends into an awkward silence.

Before anybody can say a word, Madi turns away from him and continues her former conversation as if he wasn’t there. John’s cup slowly sinks back down on the tabletop, his face a carefully schooled mask.

Despite all the misgivings she had at the thought of her daughter in the arms of a pirate, and especially this pirate, the queen now feels some sort of connection with the young man. She knows from experience how persistent her daughter’s grudge can be, and how exhausting it is to regain her favour. It says something for him that he’s still here on the island. After six months of stony silence and indifference he must feel like a ghost.

The Queen waits until Madi and her friends leave the table to join the dancers at the bonfire, before she lays a hand on John’s arm. Startled he looks up from his plate and the food he has not touched. When he recognizes her, he nods deeply to suggest a bow without getting up.

She withdraws her hand before speaking to him. „We haven’t had much opportunity to talk, John Silver.“

His blue gaze is slipping from her face; truly fading like a ghost’s, she thinks. „I haven’t really felt like talking since my return from Georgia“, he says.

Right, the mysterious journey to get rid of Captain Flint. She notices how tightly his hands are grabbing the armrests of his chair when he mentions it, and decides to hold back the questions on her mind.

„I never came to thank you“, she says after a while, and the words cause him to give her a look of surprise. „You love her“, she continues. „Just as much as I do. I realized that when you talked to me; that day we both thought her dead.“

He stays silent, just watches her out of those awfully desolate eyes.

After a moment’s hesitation she reaches for his arm again and squeezes it lightly. „I thank you for bringing her back safely. I thank you for sacrificing a part of your own life to prevent this war from swallowing us whole.“

He snorts; a bitter, humourless sound. „She thinks it was selfish to rob your people of this opportunity. She thinks I’m a coward.“

„Was it selfish to put the life of your loved one’s before the greater cause, even against their own will?“, the queen asks. „Yes. It was. Was it cowardly to do it behind their backs?“, she continues. „Definitely. But in this case it was also the most reasonable thing to do. I guess nobody has told you that before, John, so I am saying it now: Thank you. For bringing back my daughter and offering my people a different way.“

John is silent for a moment. „You said something about my sacrifice.“ His voice shakes as much as his arm under her hand when he asks: „Do you reckon she’ll ever forgive me?“

For a moment the Maroon Queen wonders if he really thinks that’s what she meant by those words; then she sighs. „I can’t tell. In that regard she’s too much like myself.“ She examines his pale face. On closer look she notices that he’s sporting dark rings under his eyes and his skin has an unhealthy blueish gleam to it. He looks almost as bad as the first time she saw him. She wonders if his leg is bothering him again or if he just doesn‘t sleep enough.

„I will talk to her“, the queen tries to comfort him. „But I can‘t promise that will change anything.“

  
***  


The feast is nearly over. Only the most enthusiastic dancers still remain on the village square. Madi can hear their drunken laughter while she gets ready for bed. It was a nice evening altogether, but after the awkward affair at the table her exuberance has vanished into thin air.

She closes her eyes. The thought of John is rekindling the inner turmoil she was suffering since his return from Savannah. _Savannah_. The name alone was enough to bring angry tears to her eyes and drench her guts in acrid ire. She tries not to think of all the nights she spent wide awake in her bed with her face buried in the pillow to muffle her screams of despair and loss. These fits do nothing to ease her anger as they should. Instead of feeling relieved afterwards she feels hollow. Madi hates that feeling more than anything else. Even more than she hates John at the moment.

While she finishes undressing, Madi remembers the look on his face back then when she rejected him at the table. She can’t deny that a part of her feels sorry for him, but at the same time she’s ashamed by such weakness, and that shame brings back the rage. She’s caught in a vicious circle. With a cry she flings the necklace she wanted to place on her dressing table at the nearest wall where it shatters to pieces, red beads flying everywhere.

„Madi?“

Startled she turns around and sees her mother standing in the doorway to her cabin. Gathering her skirts, the queen slowly kneels down to pick up one of the beads which has rolled in front of her feet.

„Your father gave you that necklace“, she says.

Madi is fighting against her tears. „I know“, she whispers.

Her mother stands up and steps into the bedroom to gather her in a hug. „This constant anger isn’t good for you. It’s tearing you apart.“

„I know“, Madi repeats, resolutely freeing herself from her mother’s arms.

The queen looks her up and down with sad but determined eyes. „We need to talk.“

Madi nods. „I saw you talking to John at the feast.“

„He’s miserable“, her mother points out.

„And he should be!“, Madi answers with a frown.

Her mother is not impressed by it. „I thanked him today; for what he did.“

„You did what? How could you -!“

Now the queen’s anger is matching her own. „How could I not thank him for bringing back my only child whom we both thought dead not long ago? We mourned you, Madi!“

„But he had no right to make that decision for me; for Flint. For all of us. We had a plan! This war could have freed so many people who’ll now remain in shackles because of him.“

Her mother’s rage is gone, replaced by a fond sadness. „You’re an idealist, just like your father.“

„You say that like it’s a bad thing“, Madi noted.

„Because it sometimes is; at least for yourselves. Even your father had to learn the hard way that the most drastic option is not always the best.“

Madi clenches her hands into fists. „How can you say that? Have you not supported this war just like me?“

Her mother slowly shakes her head. „I admit I was also enthralled by Captain Flint’s narrative; eager to reach fast and thorough victory, but your loss reminded me of the cost a defeat would have imposed on our people. And even you have to admit that an unfavourable outcome was much more likely from the start.“

„We could’ve accomplished it“, Madi stubbornly insists.

„Do you really think a victory over England alone would’ve wiped slavery from the face of the earth? What of all the other nations engaging in it?“

„It would’ve been a start! We could’ve been an example for a world in which everyone is equal. Over time it would’ve made a difference.“

„You don’t know that“, her mother said. „Humans are made to raise themselves above others; it’s a part of our nature. And that means, sadly, that things like slavery will continue to exist in some form or other as long as there are people on this world. Not every revolution is a tidal wave, Madi. Sometimes it’s the constant dripping that wears the stone. “

These words suck the rage out of Madi’s body, leaving only gloom in its place. She refuses to believe this. That would feel like betraying her father’s memory. Flint’s memory. The thought sends a pang of pain through her heart. Despite John’s best efforts she still doubts the captain’s well-being.

„So … what?“, Madi asks. „Should I just put this whole thing behind me and live happily ever after with the man who betrayed me and presumably has Flint’s blood on his hands?“ Flint who was her friend as much as he was his. Flint who was almost like a father to her.

Her mother frowns. „You really think he killed him?“

„It’s more likely than the story he told me. There’s simply no way he would’ve abandoned our cause for some man from his past. It just doesn’t add up.“

„Thomas“, her mother says, nodding. „I heard you and John talking about him and Flint, and if I’m not severely mistaken he wasn’t just _some man_ to him.“

„But still -“

Her mother has no intention to let her finish. „If there was the slightest chance, I too would do everything, _give up everything_ to get your father back. On that you can be sure!“

Somewhat taken aback by this unexpected comparison, Madi can’t think of anything to say for a moment. Her mother’s face is showing more passion than she ever witnessed on it.

„You really mean that?“, she finally asks.

„Of course I do“, the queen replies. „And even though you don’t want to hear it, your John did the same for you. He loves you. I see that in his face every time he lays eyes on you. But, as I’m sure you know, you were not the only person on the receiving end of these looks.“

Madi bites her lip. Of course she knows. She knew even before John himself was able to acknowledge it. Suddenly it’s all too much. She has no idea what to believe anymore.

„I … I’m sorry“, she stammers, already throwing her dress back on over her shift. „I have to get out for a while and think about all of this.“

She doesn’t look back to see her mother on the floor again where she’s collecting the remaining beads of her ruined necklace.

  
***  


John is sitting in the hot sand, listening to the waves and imagining to see the Walrus’s familiar sails in the distance. He remembers the clashing of swords mingling with his own laborious breathing and Flint’s occasionally shouted instructions. John gathers a handful of sand from the spot next to him, wondering if a bit of the absent man’s essence might have trickled into the ground while they were sitting here side by side.

Soft footsteps at his back make him turn around, heart lurching when he realizes who it is. John picks up his crutch and stands up to face her. It seems the queen’s efforts in his favour actually made an impact on her daughter. At least that’s what he desperately hopes. Maybe she’s just here to banish him from her island for good. A long tense silence stretches between them which is only disrupted by the sound of the ocean and the thundering beat of his heart. Her expression is nearly scaring the shit out of him, but at the same time he can’t contain the joy of simply being able to look into her beautiful eyes again.

„Sit“, Madi says after a while and approaches him.

Without missing a beat he follows her order. Relief is flooding his mind. She wouldn’t join him on the ground, would she, if she were only here to make him leave?

Something rattles in John‘s pocket when he sits down and he remembers. Under her slightly puzzled look, he takes out the necklace he spent half the night repairing. Every bead has been carefully strung up on a new piece of twine with a securing knot after each one.

„You fixed it“, Madi notes surprised.

John gives her the jewellery, willing his hand not to shake. Actually talking to her after all this time is truly exhilarating. „Your mother told me what happened. I offered to mend it for her.“

She frowns. „How do you know anything about bead knotting?“

John continues to play with the sand. He shrugs. „May’ve spent some time with an old gipsy woman selling trinkets“, he tells her.

She shakes her head. „You're unbelievable.“

„Do you mean that in a good way or in a bad one?“, he asks her, but she doesn‘t dignify him with an answer.

„Why do you come here, John?“

The question startles him. He knows where it will lead their conversation, and he’s not sure he’s ready for that.

„You know why“, he replies.

„Do you regret anything by now?“

John looks her straight in the eyes as he answers: „No. Because there is nothing to regret. What I did was the best for everyone involved.“

Barely controlled anger ripples under her mask of calmness, but she’s not unleashing it yet. „Even Flint?“

„Especially Flint“, John says. „Are you still convinced I killed him? I told you the truth, Madi, and if there’s one thing I truly regret then it’s not bothering with evidence … overestimating your trust in me.“

She just stares at him. „That’s not fair.“

John knows. He knows he’s overstepped, but his own anger is growing and he has no intention of taking that back. „You have not answered my question.“

Madi’s gaze slips from him out to the ocean and it seems she’s thinking long and hard about it.

„Actually no“, she says, and John is overwhelmed by relief. „Something my mother said to me yesterday …“, She pauses, maybe reliving the conversation. Then her focus is suddenly back on him. „But even if he’s still alive and happy with Thomas, there’s still the fact that you planned all this behind our backs.“

John feels his desperation peak again. That’s not the first time they’re turning in circles like this. „Look, when I sent Morgan to Savannah I was acting on a hunch. I didn’t really expect to have my suspicion confirmed. And even when it turned out that Thomas really was alive, I kept the knowledge to myself instead of telling James.“

„So that you had it up your sleeve when you needed it later“, Madi points out with a bitter laugh.

„No“, John all but shouts, angrily punching the soft sand beside him. „Even if I had wanted to tell him, there was no time! He was taking a break in Eleanor’s dungeon. I had the Spanish on my hands, and when we finally met again … the first thing he told me was that you’d died.“

Madi looks at him and he’s desperately hoping that the tinge of fondness in her face is not only an illusion his mind conjured up to comfort him.

„After I lost you“, he forces himself to remember, „I wasn’t even thinking about Thomas or Savannah or what could be achieved with such information. I was desperate to make your death mean something. The thought that you could’ve died in vain …“ He stops short, drowning in bitter memories. „In that moment I was more convinced of this war than ever before.“

„And when you learned of my survival …“ Madi begins.

John nods. „That was when the plan began to form in my mind. I was ready to do everything to save you from Rogers' hands and keep you out of further danger, and I knew the only way to do so was to -“ He waits until his voice quits shaking. „The only way was to get rid of Flint.“

„So you simply decided over our heads“, Madi concludes and her eyes are sparkling with fresh anger. She’s raised to her knees now, shaking fists pressed to her sides, and looks down on him like a furious goddess. „After Rogers‘ defeat you had the audacity to lie straight into my face!“

„Yes“, John admits. „I lied. It seemed easier. If I had told you anything about the plan I came up with or the deal with Jack, I knew you would’ve persuaded me to let go of it, and I couldn’t let this happen! I couldn’t … let us tumble back down this violent spiral again and again until some new Rogers would’ve inevitably crushed us!“ His voice is almost at shouting level now; his fingers clawing the coarse sand under his hands. „I know you think it was selfish, but if it‘s selfish to protect your life, _his_ life and many other’s? If it’s selfish to love you so much I was willing to rip out half of my soul for you, then yes! I’m selfish!“

She slaps him.

For a second nobody moves. John’s cheek stings, but he barely realizes it over the surprise to feel her skin on his. Then she lunges at him and John’s back crashes into the dune behind him. For a short time he’s unable to distinguish the clawing of her nails in his face and the blows of her fists against his rips from the violent kisses she assaults his mouth with. But after a while Madi’s attacks grow weaker, the kisses gentler, and John finally dares to reciprocate them.

„I hate you“, she gasps, immediately belying her words with ripping his trousers off him and taking his hardening cock in her hand with unexpected gentleness. With a few purposeful strokes she gets it to leak. „You lying shithead!

„You stubborn bitch“, he retorts panting, clutching her sides with much more force than he normally would. Madi is hastily shuffling off her clothes and places herself over his lap. She’s grabbing his arms to press them down into the sand above his head. The tip of his cock is brushing the dark meadow of her pubic hair and it’s driving him crazy!

„I hate you“, she repeats, but it almost sounds like an endearment now.

John fights against the surprising strength of her grip around his wrists. The coarse sand grazes his skin, but it pales compared to the feeling of her silky wetness engulfing him when she slowly takes him all the way in. They’re both almost on the edge. Madi moves her hips in a frantic rhythm, gasping with each thrust.

„I – fucking – hate you“, she pants out a last time and comes with a drawn out whimper. John’s orgasm follows shortly after. When his blood finally starts flooding back into his brain, he sighs: „Why can’t you accept that I did it for you? I chopped my heart to pieces for _you_!“

With an obscene sound Madi slides off his dick to stare at him incredulously. „Because you chopped my heart too, you fucking idiot!“

John’s stunned. All exhilaration ebbs away, leaving only a suppressed grain of guilt which is growing with every second.

„Your heart’s not the only one beating for him“, Madi says. She’s calm now, but tears start glistening in her eyes. „At least you had the opportunity to say goodbye to him. Of that kind of closure I got robbed. You robbed me, John!“

He hurriedly frees himself from her now weakened grip and sits up to gather her in a hug. He admittedly never thought about it that way. „I’m so sorry, love! I didn’t realize you felt for him so strongly. I just assumed you were only interested in his ideas and experience. I was an idiot!“

She has every right to push him away, but instead she hugs him back, burying her face at his shoulder and weeping into his shirt. „It happened when you were missing“, she explains, „I don’t know! He was just there. Just there waiting with me on that beach, and I felt comforted by his presence alone.“

Her tears make his own eyes flood, so he presses them shut. Panic clutches his insides and his hands, which are frantically stroking her back, start to shiver. „I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, love!“

Noticing his sudden distress, Madi looks up with reddened eyes. She takes in his wet cheeks and his laboured breathing, and puts her hands on the back of his neck, pushing his head down to her breast. „It’s alright, John“, she whispers. „It’s alright.“

„I’m sorry!“ At the moment it’s the only thing he can bring his mouth to utter.

„It’s alright“, she replies again. „I’m not mad anymore.“

He looks up at her in wonder. „You forgive me?“

Madi hesitates. „I … I’m not sure I’m ready yet, but … but I could. Over time. We could put this behind us.“

It’s not ideal, but it’s better than anything John expected to hear, so his face lightens up in a smile. It feels so unfamiliar his muscles tense up almost immediately. „That’s something I can work with.“

She smiles. „You’re an idiot, John. But you’re _my_ idiot.“

  
***  


„Go“, the queen says, covertly blinking back her tears. „You have to catch the tide.“

She reluctantly unfastens herself from her daughter and takes John’s hand presumably for the last time.

„Take care of my little girls“, she tells him. „Or I’ll hear from it and come after you in Bristol!“

He laughs, but his eyes show nothing but sincerity when he answers: „I will. I swear it by my remaining leg.“

The queen smiles. „That should be good enough. Now off you go!“

They climb the dinghy and wave goodby until the queen and her entourage are no longer in sight.

John reaches out to stroke the dark fuzz on his daughter’s head. She’s sleeping in Madi’s arms since they left the village. „Are you ready to become the wife of an English tavern keeper?“, he asks only half in jest.

She raises a sardonic eyebrow at him. „As long as you’re ready to become the husband of a slave smuggler, I’m all set for it.“ She shifts the infant’s weight in her arms. He can tell that there’s something else on her mind. „Do you think Israel will be able to find them? They could be on the other end of the world by now.“

John suspiciously eyes the young seaman who’s rowing them out to their ship, but the boy doesn‘t seem to pay them any attention.

„If James actually follows the instructions I left in his saddlebag“, he replied softly, „it shouldn’t be too hard to accomplish.“

She looks at him curiously. „What did you tell him to do?“

He grins and leans forward to whisper in her ear. „To leave contact informations with a certain Kahwihta Argent who’s running a safehold for all kinds of misfits in the further vicinity of Québec.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s it! I hope I managed to mend some finale-bruised hearts with this and didn’t disappoint anyone grieviously with the lack of actual Silver/Flint-smut. It just didn’t seem to fit somehow. Maybe there will be an after TI follow-up-story, but that’s just a vague idea at the moment, so don’t get your hopes up yet ;)  
> I would seriously LOVE to hear your opinion on this story so leave comments or kudos if you like! I cherish every one of them <3


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